


nyctophobia

by watergator



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 19:31:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18079568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watergator/pseuds/watergator
Summary: somebody is playing with the light downstairs





	nyctophobia

The air is thick and heavy. It’s hot out and it feels the kind of atmosphere just before a storm, or a few cracks of thunder.   
  
Darkness has already blanketed the city of London with a velvet night sky, the few stars that scatter in the night sky, no thanks to the light pollution of the ever bustling city that blocks out any other twinkles of light up above.   
  
Phil is curled up on the sofa; long ago should he have switched the tv off and crawled sleepily into bed - but his ever persisting bad habits of staying up later than necessary only seem to fade to the back of his mind whenever something’ll catch his eye on the tv or his phone and laptop, and it’ll be the next morning when he has a tired body and a crook in his neck from a bad night’s sleep will he finally feel the sense of regret, only for the same cycle of events to happen again the next night, and the next night and so forth.   
  
Dan isn’t any better though. He sits on the opposite end of the couch. His legs are stretched out and his toes dig into the flesh of Phil’s thigh like they belong there. His attention is drawn to his phone, eyes lighting up and flickering over whatever he reads on his tiny screen in his hands and as the tv continues to drone on about the documentary subject Phil’s quickly losing interest in, he lets out a long yawn, body probably desperate for sleep now.   
  
“Hey. I’m gonna head off to bed,” Phil says with a voice heavy and thick as he gives Dan’s foot a quick affectionate pat.   
  
Dan doesn’t even look up, but instead gives a grunt and a short nod and Phil stands up and stretches his legs out and arms above his head where he hears and feels a few concerning cracks and pops from inside his body.   
  
He grimaces at himself before he says a quick goodnight and heads off towards the bedroom, leaving Dan in the living room. As Phil strips off his clothes, letting them drop heavy and forgotten to the floor, he knows it’s only a matter of time before Dan will follow him in here.   
  
Alone in the darkness of their living room on the other side of the apartment won’t bode well for Dan’s overactive imagination - even at the age he is, and he’ll soon expect to see his boyfriend stride through the door, eyes a little wide with an expression that will try to convince Phil otherwise. It won’t work though.   
  
Just as Phil crawls under the covers of their bed, his predictions are true, and Dan wastes no time in stripping his clothes off his body down to his boxers all whilst making quick steps from the door to the bed where he quickly dives in underneath beside Phil.   
  
Phil can’t help but give a little laugh at the way Dan shuffles over to him until their bodies are pressed together, skin to skin, as if Dan really were afraid of something real.   
  
“Don’t laugh at me,” Dan mumbles and Phil simply laughs again.    
  
Dan gets impossible tight to him, legs now crossed over one another, and Phil thinks there wouldn’t even be room for an atom between them. Any closer and Dan would have to be on top of him.   
  
“Are you scared?” Phil teases him, like he’s done so many times before and Dan simply grumbles in response and pushes his head towards Phil’s chest where he finds comfort.   
  
Phil laughs again at him, quiet and breathy that it tickles against the top of Dan’s curls, where he presses a quick kiss against them in a silent goodnight.   
  
Dan tucks his legs up, knees pressing against Phil’s stomach and just as Phil lets his eyes slip shut and arms wrap around his waist to pull him in, he hears a faint  _ click _ , come from somewhere in the apartment.   
  
It’s the smallest of things that made his body go so still, and blood goes a little icy from inside his veins.   
  
He feels Dan go the same too. Body tense and muscles freeze as they both lay silently whilst the idea of what they’d both obviously heard dawns on them both.   
  
“Dan,” Phil is the first to speak, in the smallest of whispers, and just as the words leave his mouth Dan presses closer to him.   
  
“No,” he says almost frantically. “No, just shut up.”   
  
His voice trembles and Phil isn’t sure what to say. They’d both heard it. A very small click come from what sounded like downstairs in the other lounge.   
  
Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps a pipe from the walls or the house moving. Nothing real.   
  
But just as his brain eases into the idea of something far more comfortable; something less scary, he hears it again.   
  
_ Click _ .   
  
This time Phil sits up.   
  
Dan almost clings onto him, but he lets go and is left lay on the bed, head in the pillow.   
  
“Phil. What the fuck?” Dan speaks, and it already sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.   
  
Phil doesn’t answer him, too afraid to even use his voice just in case there is somebody in the house.   
  
Just the mere idea of somebody lurking around in the dark downstairs whilst they’re both in bed sends his stomach lurching. If somebody was to be in their apartment, how long had they been idling? How long had the pair of them been sat in the comfort of their home with the premise of somebody silently waiting just a floor below them? Had it been just these last few hours of night? Had it been all day? Had it been longer?   
  
His stomach does another flip and he has to swallow down the bile that rises with it.   
  
He feels fingertips brush against his arm and his heart rate spikes before he remembers it’s Dan reaching out for him in the dark. It’s so dark in here, he thinks, when did it become so dark?   
  
Dan looks as if he’s about to say something, with his mouth hung open and lip jutted out but there’s another click that somehow seems to echo within the space of their room and this time, Phil spins his head towards the door to squint at the doorway where he can just about see the long stretch of hallway that’s also engulfed in a vast blackness.   
  
He can’t see anything but he hears it again.    
  
_ Click _ .  _ Click _ .   
  
His heart pumps in his chest and he wants nothing more to fall back down and crawl under the covers with Dan, who gives a sad little whimper of what can only be described as pure hopelessness.   
  
There’s definitely someone down there, and just as Phil squints his eyes once more, mentally preparing himself to perhaps see something emerge from the darkness that floods the hallway, there’s another click, and this time Phil can make out the reflection of light coming from downstairs.   
  
He stills, and waits, and once the click comes back, the light is gone. The click is once more and the light returns.   
  
Fear floods Phil’s entire body. It drowns in his stomach making him feel sick, and it rests heavy in his muscles where he can’t even move them, not even to hide away anymore.   
  
“What is it?” Dan finally speaks, and it feels like it’s been hours, days, years since Phil’s even heard his voice. It brings him the tiniest of comforts that Dan’s here beside him, but it quickly washes away when he remembers that anything bad that happens to him, happens to Dan too.   
  
Phil reaches an arm backwards; he’s too frightened to pull his gaze away from the hallway, just in case there’s movement, and he quickly finds Dan’s hand and grabs it, squeezing it tight.   
  
“It’s the light,” Phil whispers low to him. He won’t even blink, too cautious now to miss anything.    
  
The light comes on, and off again.    
  
“Somebody is playing with the light downstairs.”   
  
Dan almost crushes his hand in his as he lets out a small muffled sob. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god, Phil, what the fuck?”   
  
Phil’s weary that Dan’s panic is pitching his voice maybe a decibel too loud. It’s still a whisper, but his fear bleeds out in cracked cries between his words. Phil squeezes his hand tight.   
  
“Be quiet,” he tells him. “We need to be quiet.”   
  
Dan stays quiet. He feels his thumb run along his knuckles soothingly yet he can still feel the tremor in his hands as they sit and just wait.   
  
There’s nothing for a while; no movement or clicks or light.   
  
Phil swallows. “Where’s your phone?”   
  
Dan takes a sharp inhale. “On the fucking pissing couch. Fuck.” He sounds distraught with himself, and Phil tries to hold in any external disappointment in knowing that Dan had left his phone just a few rooms away, along with his own that sits charging in the kitchen.   
  
“It’s okay,” he tries to assure him, but his own voice gives him away with the way it breaks just a little. He’s still trained on the long hallway; he’s never noticed how terrifying it really looked at night until now. He guesses he has some kind of understanding as to why Dan would always sprint his way through it once Phil had already gone to bed.   
  
It felt like hours now. Felt like a whole twelve hours have passed since that first click; feels like a while now that they heard the last one.

He wants to lay back down, put it down to a faulty wire, joke to Dan about the whole thing at go to sleep, but his fear is what makes him stay sat up in bed with a chill on his skin, staring hard at the darkness ahead of him.

He blinks, finally, and it returns.   


_ Click _ .   
  
It has to be a sick game, perhaps a way to entice people out of their beds, just to be waiting with something to smack him over the head with. It’s the only solution Phil can think of, and all the more they wait here, unwilling to participate in the little trial that they might be playing on them, the more Phil fears that perhaps  _ they’ll  _ end up coming to  _ them _ .   
  
He can’t bare that thought; he won’t blink or move, eyes steadily watching the end of the hallway where he knows is the top of the stairs. Any sudden movements from that dark spot and he’s not sure what he’ll do. The door has a lock but that might not be enough to protect them.   
  
He thinks about the window but it’s a sheer drop from here and they won’t have enough time to somehow make it out without making some sort of noise.    
  
It goes again, a click, so horrifying now that it seems to ring in his ears.   
  
_ Click _ ,  _ click _ ,  _ click. _   
  
Something as simple as a light switch shouldn’t make his mouth run dry and tears burn behind his eyes. He thinks back to their old flat, with the googly eyes on their living room light and it makes him want to cry.   
  
_ Click _ ,  _ click _ ,  _ click _ .   
  
“Phil,” Dan whispers, sounding desperate. Phil hears the bed creak and he doesn’t have to turn to know that Dan’s sat up now, his chest flush with Phil’s, hands still interlocked.   
  
“Phil,” Dan whispers again, but Phil ignores him. He can’t turn away. He can’t speak. He’s frozen.   
  
“Phil,” Dan’s crying now, and Phil can feel wetness against the back of his neck where Dan buries his face into him. It feels like so long ago that Dan was doing the exact same to his chest, curling up into him as they laughed about his fear for the dark.   
  
The dark has never looked more unnerving.

“Be quiet,” Phil tells him again, and Dan does so, not moving his body away from Phil’s.

There’s another click, another flicker of light and he can feel the vibrations of Dan’s whimper against his skin.   
  
“I need to get to the phone,” Phil whispers, letting his hand slip from Dan’s, but Dan grabs it, snatching it up and grabbing it fiercely.   
  
“No. No, don’t fucking leave me,” his voice trembles and shakes and it sounds far from the Dan that Phil knows. Phil wishes he could turn around and face him.   
  
“I need the phone. I’ll call the police, you’ll stay here,” Phil whispers to him, and Dan squeezes his hand again.    
  
“Please,” he gives a sad cry but Phil swallows thickly and shakes his head.   
  
“I’ll be back. I promise.”   
  
The words are stale in his mouth and if the situation weren’t so dire, he’d laugh at himself for how cliche he was being, but Dan eventually lets go with a hiccuped sob and Phil slips out of bed, dressed in just his t-shirt and pants.    
  
The entire bedroom is engulfed in darkness, he can barely see a hand ahead of him. He makes careful steps across the floor, and when he almost trips over the jeans he’d left on the floor earlier he wants to kick himself for never picking them up.   
  
He manoeuvres around the laundry, slow, steady steps. He makes it to the door, and creeps out into the hallway.   
  
A million times, he’s made this journey. A million times he’s walked up and down past these walls; in the day and in the night. But right now they feel as if they’re suffocating him with a horrid sense of unfamiliarity. He reaches a hand out for the wall, and when his fingers brush up against the smoothness of the wall he feels numb.   
  
The idea sits in his head of his hand touching something other than wall. Something human and something not familiar. He yanks his hand back and holds it to his chest, too frightened to have to imagine that play into reality.   
  
He knows where the lounge is, he knows where the door is, having passed into that room so many times, but now it feels like he’s been walking forever, and that the room doesn’t even exist in this amount of darkness.   
  
He gingerly reaches out again, he’s praying to find the wooden frame of the door at his fingertips, and not something else instead. He clings to the idea that he should be at the living room by now, and then, his hands find the door and he’s breathing a deep sigh of relief.   
  
It barely hits him of how loud he’s being and he sucks in a breath, but not quick enough for there to sound out in the darkness a:

_ Click _ .   
  
Blood goes cold and his heart flies into his mouth where he holds it with a still tongue. He waits and waits for what feels like forever. He could close his eyes and sink to the floor and wait out whatever fate awaits him in the sad dark hallway of his apartment, but he doesn’t, and when there’s a second click, he takes a deep breath and keeps going.   
  
The lounge is impossibly dark. He can’t see anything now, furniture invisible to him with the blanket that covers the room, and all of his instincts are telling him to reach for the switch and just turn on the light to look for Dan’s phone.   
  
But even now, the light switch seems deadly. Instead he opts out and begins his search for the phone with his hands. Fear pumps in his body to his very fingertips where it tingles on his nerves, eyes squeezing shut for a second as he prays not to touch anything unwanted.   
  
He wants to find the phone and get out. Get back and call the police and wait it out. But his brain conjures image after image of what could be waiting in the corner of this very room; what kind of person could be watching gleefully as Phil blindly searches for the one thing to save him, only for it to ripped away.   
  
He shakes the idea out of his head, reminds himself there isn’t anybody else here with him (not to his knowledge) and the faster he finds that phone, the quicker he can get out and call for help.    
  
His hands find the couch and it’s like a small victory. Hand run along familiar fabric, shakily investigating each inch until he finds the phone. He inches forward ever so slightly, minding to be quiet as he blindly feels for the object.   
  
His hand come across cool metal and they latch onto it. It feels like a phone, so he he grabs at it and hauls it to his chest like his life depends on it. Because his life might actually depend on it.   
  
Chest heaving with heavy breaths, Phil swallows thickly and basks in the relief of having the phone. It’s one step closer to getting out of here.   
  
He doesn’t risk unlocking it just yet, not here in a room this dark, and as he’s about to step forward to return to the bedroom, he pauses.   
  
For a split second, he thinks about forgetting the bedroom and finding an out. But the idea is quickly diminished when he suddenly remembers Dan.   
  
He feels sick. How could he possibly forget Dan? He would never leave him behind, ever, and so the mere selfish thought of walking away from him for his own wellbeing makes his stomach flip again and his knees weaken.   
  
Tears brim under his eyes and he blinks them rapidly away as he steps forward. He has to go back. Through the hallway and back to Dan.   
  
He takes another slow step when there’s another click.   
  
He pauses. Waits. Steps again.   
  
_ Click _ .   
  
He takes a shaky breath and holds the phone close. Another step.    
  
Another  _ click _ .   
  
Body trembling, he takes another few quick steps, faster and brisker this time towards where he knows the door is, each footstep is followed by a,   
  
_ click, click, click, click, click. _   
  
Tears burn at his eyes, skin so cold he shivers. His heart rams against his chest so hard he’s sure he’s going to break a rib.    
  
But he makes it out the hallway, and the first step into the darkness is when it stops.   
  
It’s deafening, the silence. He can barely see, nor hear now, and so he makes cautious steps, sticking close the wall.   
  
Phil thinks about Dan’s own survival intuition, a back to the wall doesn’t seem like such a silly idea now, especially now that he has his back turned towards where the light is going on and off.   
  
He’s quick again, sure and careful to tread lightly, and once he’s made it to the bedroom again he can barely make out the bed, only clambering in with bumped knees against the bed frame.   
  
He just makes out the lump under the covers that’s Dan. Phil places a hand over him and Dan gives a relieved sigh.   
  
“Fuck.” he’s crying. “Fuck, thank God. Thank fucking God,” he whispers, muffled from underneath the blankets.   
  
Phil wants to pull him up and hold him. Hold him tight for ever even thinking of abandoning him, and maybe one day Phil will tell him that, when they’re far from this nightmare. But right now they need to focus on what’s happening.   
  
“I got the phone,” Phil tells him and Dan shifts from underneath the blankets.   
  
“Okay,” Dan says, voice still trembling. “Okay,” he says again.   
  
“Just stay hidden. I’ll keep watch again,” Phil tells him and Dan hums quietly.   
  
He’s staring back at the hallway again, not feeling any less scary since being up and down it already. He only looks down when he’s pushing the side button of the phone where it should spring to life with the lockscreen, but - nothing.   
  
Nothing appears; the screen as black as the hallway and Phil feels his heart sink. Now he’s really starting to lose the thread of hope he had grip on.   
  
“Dan,” his voice wobbles as he stares helplessly at the dead phone. “Dan your phone’s dead.”   
  
He goes to reach backwards and feel for the Dan shaped lump under the covers but he hears another click and his head snaps upwards.   
  
The light stays on now, the faintest of rays he can make that crawl and twist up the stairs from below.   
  
It’s the longest it’s stayed on now, and curiosity spikes in his gut.   
  
Words now forgotten on his tongue, he thinks about perhaps going further than the dark hallway and the lounge, and venturing out to the kitchen for his own phone. It’s the best option they have for survival, and the only one so far, so Phil pulls the covers back once more and goes to slip out of bed, when a hand suddenly wraps around his wrist and grabs him back.   
  
With a sharp gasp, Phil looks back at the bed where Dan lays still. The lump has moved a little and he can just about see the shape of Dan’s curls poking out from the top. HIs arm is stretched out, latched onto Phil in a vice like grip.   
  
“Dan,” Phil whispers as he tries to prise Dan’s desperate fingers from his wrist. “I’m going to the kitchen. I’m gonna get my phone and get us out of here,” he tells him.   
  
Dan is reluctant to let go, but does so with another little cry.   
  
“Please, Phil,” he begs but Phil swallows the dryness in his mouth and shakes his head despite the fact that Dan can’t see him.   
  
“I’ll grab the phone and we’ll get out of here, okay?”   
  
Silence. Then,   
  
“Okay. Just hurry. Please.”   
  
Phil doesn’t bother with goodbye’s or I love you’s. He made the journey out once before and he can do it again, maybe with a little more bravado with the hallway looking normal again with the small shedding's of light that come from the end.   
  
Not that it’s entirely comforting, but still.   
  
He once again tip toes out the room, this time avoiding jeans and stray shoes on the floor - heading towards the hallway with more confidence than he did before.   
  
The kitchen is where his phone is; it’s where there’s a nice drawer full of knives that he’ll be sure to take - just in case. Fear grips at his gut at the idea of any kind of confrontation, but he pushes it down and keeps walking.   
  
The light stays on, and each careful step he takes, his heart beats harder against his chest. It pumps and pounds like it wants to escape, but he steadies it as he reaches a hand out for the wall again, mainly for comfort.   
  
He remembers he still has Dan’s dead phone in his hand, palm now slick with sweat and it almost slips from his grip, but he holds tight to it, like some security.   
  
He continues past the lounge, holding his breath as he does so and keeps walking. He’s sure he’s near to the kitchen now and just as he’s about to make it, he hears a muffled sound come from behind him towards the bedroom.   
  
He spins round, feet burning against carpet at quick friction. Bile bubbles in his stomach at the little sound of discomfort he’d heard coming from where Dan was.   
  
He’s stuck to the spot, he wants to head back, run down this hallway and go to Dan - but this close to the kitchen he could easily grab the phone and knife and then head back.

Head spinning, heart pulsing, he realises he doesn’t have a lot of time to overthink it, and with the cruel images in his head of poor, helpless Dan all alone in there, he steps forward ready to break into run towards the room.   
  
But he’s stopped in his tracks suddenly, when the room plunges back into an icy darkness and he feels his throat seized up in fear.   
  
Time ticks on for what feels like forever before there’s finally another,    
  
_ Click _ .   
  
Phil finds himself turning back around towards the stairs. Sweat now drips from his body, despite how cold he truly feels all over, skin running with shivers with hot salty sweat pooling off his body.   
  
He takes another step.    
  
_ Click _ .   
  
He breathes in.   
  
Another step and another click, just like before.   
  
Kitchen long forgotten, Phil finds himself wandering past the door and towards the railing of the stairs.   
  
_ Click _ .   
  
In the light he can see the first step.   
  
_ Click _ .   
  
He gingerly makes his way forwards.   
  
_ Click _ .   
  
He’s closer now, the light surrounds him for a second before,   
  
_ Click _ .   
  
He’s drowning in the darkness again and once he reaches forward he can feel the cool metal of railing brush against his fingertips. He’s so close now.   
  
_ Click _ .   
  
They’re just in front of him and he grabs them, fingers wrapping around slim poles of white just as another,   
  
_ Click _ .   
  
Darkness blinds him as he grips the railings. Shuffling his feet he finds the first step, he toes the dip beneath him steadily as blood rushes in his head.   
  
_ Click _ .   
  
His eyes are shut, nostrils flare with each heavy breath his takes. His hands sweat where they’re held tightly on the railings and it’s then that he realises he no longer has Dan’s phone in his hold.   
  
He feels his tummy do a weird kind of swoop inside of him, turning his head back, despite the fact he can’t see in the dark, he wonders if he’d dropped it somehow.   
  
There’s a bitter taste on his tongue that makes him feel sick. He looks down at the stairs and stares.   
  
There’s no more clicks. No more lights. There’s a soft thump come from behind him back in the bedroom, like something gently hitting the floor, he turns his head towards the sound, barely making out the end of the hallway where the door is when there’s another:

_ Click _ .

The light is back on, but once Phil spins his head back around its off again.

_ Click _ .

Blood pumps so furiously in his head that it rings like tiny bells in his ears. He can feel the walls of his throat constrict with every sharp breath he takes in, and out. He squints his eyes and he feels his chest run cold, quick.

In the dark he can just make out a slim figure. It’s stood silently in the dark, unmoving, unpredictable.

What looks an arm is held up onto the wall, and it takes a few seconds of Phil kicking his brain into action to realise that whoever it is, probably has their hand on the light switch, ready to flick it on and off whenever.

He squints more, trying to make out who it could be. If he’s going to die tonight, he wants to look them in the face. He wants to see who they are before they kill him.

The figure shifts slightly in the dark, Phil’s poor tired eyes trying desperately to focus on making out who it is down there when he hears a noise come from behind him.

“Phil.”

It’s Dan, and with no hesitation Phil spins around on his feet, letting go of the railing with a slip of his palms.

It’s gone quiet again and as Phil’s chest heaves, all he can hear is his own quick short breaths.That is, until:

 _Click_.

In the light, Phil can see Dan at the doorway, gripping onto the frame with a hunched figure; face pale and beyond frightened.

“Dan,” Phil says weakly in disbelief at the sight of him, and as he takes a step towards him, he’s gone - darkness blinds him once more and Phil wants to scream but his throat is tight and words die on his tongue where he can’t call out to him.

He takes another step. Click, the light comes back.

Dan’s still where he was seconds before, brows curved and mouth pulled into a pained frown: he looks hurt or sick or something worse, and Phil takes three more steps.

Just like before, each step he takes gives and takes away his light. Each damn click that echoes off the walls of his skull make him never want to turn another light off again in his life.

“Phil,” Dan says again, sounding so far away and Phil picks up the pace and watches as Dan dips in and out of sighs as Phil grows closer.

He’s running now; running far too long for a hallway this short, but there’s a final click of light and he can’t see anything.

He breathes, heavy and slow. He’s tired and afraid. He closes his eyes shut tight.

Just as he opens them, there’s a click, and Dan’s right in front of him, maybe an inch away from him.

Phil screams, leaping back where he stumbles and trips over his feet as his body shakes with each fried nerve ending after the fright he’d just encountered.   
  
He’s about to say something before the lights go back off again, with a sharp click, and Phil slaps a hand over his mouth.   
  
The scream probably what’s given him away anymore - but it’s a telling for whoever’s out there, that he knows know. This is real and they’re in this now.   
  
Chest heaving, he holds his hands out. He needs to find Dan, make sure he’s alright. Blindly, he reaches out for him, fingers shake and the tips of them seem to burn as he finds nothing but air.   
  
Until he steps forward and he feels something. It feels like a chest, with skin and muscle, and it feels somewhat familiar. Phil feels a wobbly smile form on his face; just being able to touch Dan is enough comfort for now. He gives a deep, shaky sigh of relief as he pats at Dan’s chest with assuring hands.   
  
He’s about to say something to him, his mouth is already open and tongue ready, when he’s stopped by a noise coming from downstairs.   
  
It makes his body go cold despite the thick heavy sweat that forms over his skin.    
  
“Phil?”   
  
It’s Dan’s voice. A voice so familiar to him; a voice usually so comforting and soothing in any kind of scenario. A voice he’s heard over the years through various crappy laptop speakers, or over the phone, or in bed or in the morning or through tears or through laughter.   
  
Now, it fills him with dread.   
  
“Phil?” It speaks again. Phil’s hands are still outstretched onto the body just inches away from him, yet, the voice of who it should belong to… is coming from downstairs.   
  
Body frozen like a deer in a headlight, Phil truly understands that statement more than anything now. His body stills, as if he hopes that’ll protect him, yet his skin itches and crawls with the knowledge that he’s still touching… something.   
  
“Phil?” Dan’s voice whispers again. It’s more on the edge of tears now - a tone Phil understood so well. A tone that had Phil always reaching out for him. But Phil wants nothing more than to escape.   
  
It goes quiet again, and then.   
  
Click.   
  
The light comes back on and Phil feels his breath hitch in his throat.   
  
It’s Dan. He’s stood just in front of him, eyes blown wide, Phil’s hands still on his bare chest.   
  
Phil stares at him, almost in disbelief for a second before he yanks his hands away like he’s been burned.   
  
“Phil..” Dan whispers, sounding so unsure, but Phil steps backward, Dan’s arms weakly come up after him,   
  
“Phil,” Dan says again, pleading now, but as Phil shakes his head, it happens again.   
  
_ Click _ .   
  
Plunged into darkness, Phil feels a wave of cold wash over him. This can’t be happening, he thinks. He’s fallen asleep on the couch and this is some twisted nightmare.   
  
He frantically grips at his hair in his hands and pulls. He tugs at his head until his scalp grows sore; unable to wake himself from what he realises now is a horrific reality.   
  
There’s silence all around him, and it’s then that he realises he hasn’t heard the usual bustle of traffic outside in what feels like hours.   
  
How long has it been? How much time has passed from the first little click, to where he is now? He feels as if he’s been awake for days, months even. He can’t remember what anything else looks like outside this one stretch of hallway.   
  
Even the bedroom seems like nothing but a distant memory now; a far gone part of him long visited years ago.   
  
How long ago was it that Phil had been in the lounge searching for that phone? He can’t picture that room anymore, not with the lights on. He can’t imagine the furniture or the room or their things that are scattered about on shelves, collected together in a lifetime of living together.   
  
His heart now beats furiously at his chest, kicking at his ribs with each pulsating though that pumps in his head, feeling as if he might explode.

_ Click _ .

The light springs back into the room and Phil see’s Dan again; his pale form and sad, scared expression still reaching out for him. Phil gasps at the sight of him and as Dan opens his mouth, he hears his voice somewhere else instead of his mouth.

“Phil. Please,”   
  
Phil snaps his mouth shut and Dan lunges at him, making Phil stumble back.   
  
He lands hard on his back with the air pushed from his lungs as he falls. The light goes off again just as Dan goes for him again.   
  
Phil lets out a cry as he scrambles backwards. The palms of his hands burn against the floor with quick friction as he crawls backwards, legs kicking out at nothingness and arms flailing around in an attempt to catch something to pull him back up.   
  
He’s panting now, tears have leaked from his eyes and his cheeks burn with each fat drop.   
  
He’s still making his attempt to get away when there’s suddenly another click, and the light returns.   
  
The hallway is empty, just a long never ending stretch of wall. All he can hear is his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his rapid heart rate inside his own head.   
  
Then, amongst the quiet, there’s a sniffle and a cry.   
  
“Phil, please. Come down here.”   
  
It’s Dan - or at least, it sounds like Dan. He’s not even so sure anymore, but when he shuffles backwards once more, he realises he’s already at the stairs. Before Phil can turn back around there’s another:   
  
_ Click _ .   
  
And the lights are out. Phil’s left staring at the stairway from the floor, gripping onto the first step so tight that he’s sure his knuckles have turned white.

He gathers up what courage he has, eyes not moving from the wall where he can see a grim figure. Body trembling and all instincts telling him to turn and run back to bed and hide - he swallows them all down harshly.   
  
“Dan?” he speaks out, his weak voice cutting through the thick silence.The words hang suspended in the darkness of the room. He’s so sick of the dark now; he misses the sunlight and the daytime, although that feels like so far out of his reach now he’s not sure it even exists to him anymore.   
  
“Dan?” he tries again, hopeful this time. The figure doesn’t move, nor speak again and silence fills his senses until it’s there again. That dreadful little click.   
  
It’s Dan. He’s stood at the bottom of the stairs. He looks tired and worn and his eyes are bloodshot. He’s dressed in the clothes he’d worn before bed. The bags under his eyes pull so hard at his face and his skin sinks in through his cheekbones with a awful heaviness to it. He looks so… horrific.    
  
“Dan.” Phil says again, but with a flick of Dan’s long boney finger, there’s another click and the lights are out.   
  
Phil’s pulling himself off the floor with an eagerness, that is until he hears a voice come from behind him.   
  
“No, don’t go down there.”   
  
He turns just as the light comes back on, and of course, it’s Dan. He’s still stood in his boxers and his face is puffed up and red and blotchy from unforgiving tears.   
  
“Phil,” he begs, reaching a desperate hand out for him. Phil flinches. “Please, don’t, please.”   
  
Phil stares at Dan, then back down the stairs. It’s gone dark again.

“Phil,” the voice says from downstairs. “You have to leave,” it begs him, voice strained.

Phil blinks at Dan again, the one ahead of him, then the one downstairs in the dark.   
  
He shuts his eyes tight. His own, click, click, click in his head like a countdown.   
  
His body now heaves such heavy breaths, he’s afraid he’ll collapse on himself with another lug of his lungs that burn like fire inside of him.   
  
He’s feeling his grip of reality’s thread slowly pull away from under his grasp, unable to stop it - unsure of where to grab for when drowned in so much darkness.   
  
It pulls and pulls away from him, two separate ends: one being the one in this hallways beside him, and the other in at the bottom of the stairs.   
  
He grabs at his hair again and pulls and tugs until he’s ripping at the root. He squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his jaw. He wishes to just wake up.    
  
With his eyes closed shut, he can now hear the growing rapid clicks, on and off, on and off, on and off.   
  
_ Click, click, click, click, click _ .   
  
He wants to scream; wants to let it all rip from inside of him and let it burst into one final act of reality.   
  
But he hears the cries, hears soft, sad whimpers that he wants to block out, moving his hands over his ears to shut them out.    
  
Suddenly, it grows quiet. No more clicking, no more cries of pleads from the same voice to chose them. Phil slowly opens his eyes, cracking them open as if opening them for the first time.   
  
The hallway is lit again, as if normal. There’s nobody stood by the stairs, and as he peers back towards the doorway of the bedroom, he can see Dan on the bed, sound asleep.   
  
Relief crashes into him like a thick wave of cool water. He lets out a sigh, looking over at where he can see Dan sleeping, and he feels every inch of pain bleed away from his chest once more.   
  
With a smile and a few stray tears streamed down his face, he makes a step forwards with an eager stride, only to stop when he hears it.   
  
_ Click _ .   
  
Pulled back into darkness again, he goes cold, body chilling over like he’ll never be warm again. He counts his breaths to steady them, closes his eyes shut and balls his fists.   
  
He waits for it, whatever it may be, but this time, when he hears that god awful click once again, he’s stood stuck in the dark.    
  
He can’t even open his mouth to scream, too suffocated.   
  
He’s stuck in the dark, muscles paralysed and frozen, as he hears it play over and over again. He can’t even cry anymore.   
  
_ Click _ .  _ Click _ .  _ Click _ .   


**Author's Note:**

> this was a fanfic i've wanted to write for a really long time - as someone who is a huge fan of horror, i really wanted to try out writing it and i understand it's not always people's cups of tea but this was actually really run to write so thanks for reading !! :)
> 
> come say hi on tumblr !! @watergator


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